GOOD STUFF

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I love it when good stuff happens -- like receiving an unexpected gift in the mail. I talk to Elisa from The Crazy Life Of A Writing Mom almost every day. We aren't just shooting the breeze, though we do that, too. We talk about her business, Wayman Publishing. Some good stuff happened to Elisa and Wayman today, so I want to remind you about the very cool Wayman giveaway:

From now until the end of May, anytime you purchase a Wayman book or e-book, you can send the verifiable receipt number to waymansweepstakes@gmail.com, and you'll automatically be entered to win an iPad Mini.

Go here for further details:

http://www.waymanpublishing.com/index.php/component/k2/item/70-ipad-mini-giveaway

Elisa works so hard for the authors who publish through Wayman. It's not easy to start a business, and she deserves our support. I applaud Elisa for giving writers a chance to get their work out into the world. Elisa has become my middle child (she fits in perfectly between Favorite Young Man and The Hurricane) even though I've never met her. 

I've said it before, and I know I'll say it again: Blogging has given me a family. I love you all so much.

Now here's something good that happened to me recently. When The Hurricane was in elementary school, she took after-school art classes with a teacher named Betsy Stempien, who had a very positive influence on The Hurricane. When my little storm was here for Christmas, she even said that the time she spent with Betsy was one of the most positive aspects of her childhood.

I have a number of The Hurricane's paintings hanging in my house. She may have become a mathematician, but she's also a great artist. Betsy really sparked a love of art in my child. The Hurricane took numerous studio art classes and art history classes in high school and college.

But Betsy did more than teach The Hurricane how to draw. She offered my child wisdom and comfort when she needed it.

I was thinking about Betsy last week, so I Googled her. I found a phone number I hoped was hers. I called and got voice mail, and said I was looking for Betsy Stempien who used to teach after-school art classes.

Well, she called me back on Saturday. I had found the right person. To my surprise, she remembered The Hurricane and she remembered me. I told her what The Hurricane does now, but mostly I tried very hard to tell her what a positive impact she had on my child. We had a lovely conversation.

It was good stuff.

Elvis Aaron Schwarz is at a family reunion, but he left a message on my voice mail this morning. He said, You are who and what I want.

More good stuff.

Hi! Remember me?
I'm Elvis Aaron Schwarz.
My baby doll calls me Honey Bunny.
Don't you even think about calling me Honey Bunny.

I miss you, EAS! 

my two girls together
really good stuff

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I almost forgot to ask you to do something. Thursday, March 28th, is Rita's birthday. Even if you don't follower her, please visit her at Soul Comfort's Corner to wish her a happy birthday. 2013 has gotten off to a rough start for her. Let's give her some bloggy lovin'. She's a great lady!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FYM!

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Favorite Young Man doesn't read my blog, but I'm going to wish him a happy birthday here anyway, because it gives me a chance to brag about him.

I could tell you how high his SAT scores were, or I could tell you how hard he works; but I'd rather tell you how kind hearted he is.

He was and is a very good athlete. At the end of one baseball season when he was in elementary school, the coaches gave trophies to the kid who had the most home runs or was the best at this or that. After they gave out the trophies, one of the coaches told Dr. X in private that FYM had actually won every award, so they gave him the trophy they considered the most prestigious and the other trophies went to the kids in second place. I was glad they spread the awards around.

The following summer I was splashing in the public pool with The Hurricane, when a woman approached me and asked, Aren't you Favorite Young Man's mom?

Yes, I answered.

Well, she said, my son played baseball for the first time this spring and I can't begin to tell you how kind Favorite Young Man was to my son. He helped him learn to play and really encouraged him. He's a great kid.

I felt very grateful that she took the time to tell me about FYM.

FYM became a lifeguard when he was in high school. He worked at the lake in a state park. On the last day the lake was open for public swimming -- Labor Day, and of course it was crowded -- FYM came home without a shirt. All summer he had spent time with a young man who was developmentally disabled and had a job in the park. FYM talked to him and played catch with him. The young man often said he wished he had a lifeguard's shirt. So, on that last day, when work was over, FYM took off his shirt and gave it to the young man.

Yes, he's literally someone who would give you the shirt off his back.

Incidentally, that same day FYM saved a child from drowning. From his seat in the lifeguard's chair, FYM saw the little boy fall, but then get back up, coughing. FYM kept an eye on the boy, whose parents were nowhere in sight. The child fell again, and he didn't get up. FYM pulled the boy out, performed CPR, and radioed a park ranger for help. The parents showed up, and the boy was medivacked out to a children's hospital. He lived because FYM took his job seriously -- even though he had to contend with teenage girls who camped out around his chair and greeted his arrivals and departures with Hi, Cute Lifeguard, and Bye, Cute Lifeguard.

The baby he's holding in this picture is not his, though I wish I had a grandchild.

This little girl is AR, daughter of FYM's friends, RL and LL. LL told me that after AR was born, FYM came to visit her in the hospital. The baby was fussy and LL was so tired. She really needed a nap. FYM took the baby from her and comforted her. LL fell asleep, and when she awoke, FYM was still sitting next to her bed, holding her new baby.

AR is quite the young lady now, but when she started talking, one of her favorite questions was, Where's FYM?

I've often asked that question myself because he's been so busy for so long, playing his trombone during high school in every sort of band -- including a punk ska band called The 13th Tribe -- playing sports, working, being a great big brother to The Hurricane, helping friends who move, babysitting . . . the list goes on and on.

He's done so much for me, and like the lady who came up to me at the pool, I can't begin to tell you how kind Favorite Young Man is.

Thanks for letting me try.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

SO MUCH GOOD STUFF GOING ON

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm thrilled for all my friends who have released books recently or are about to release books. I'm saving my pennies for an Amazon purchase so I can read the following books:

Oh, my little friend Nicki Elson is so adorable, and I know her new book will be great. Divine Temptation will be released tomorrow, March 26th, which happens to be Favorite Young Man's birthday, which means that 33 years ago I was in our tiny apartment, waiting for my little bundle of pooping joy, who is now 6'4".  It must be a good day to release a book because it was certainly a good day to pop out a baby, who turned out to be so very intelligent and handsome and hard working, and presumably, continues to poop. Maybe he's the angel in Nicki's book. He seems to tempt a lot of women.

Our beloved fishducky's book will be released March 29th, available at Amazon, or the new Wayman Publishing Web site. I can't imagine anyone who could write funnier fables than Fran Fischer, and you'll want to check out everything on the Wayman site, including their cool giveaway.

The Blogger's Survival Guide: Tips and Tricks for Parent Bloggers, Wordsmiths and Enthusiasts by Lexie Lane and Becky McNeer was released by Wayman Publishing yesterday. I look forward to having this guide on my bookshelf with all my other reference books. When I have a question about how to do something on my blog, I know this is the book I'll turn to. It's NOT just for parent bloggers. It has tons of blogging information.

Poor Rick Watson probably doesn't believe me anymore when I say I'm going to buy Life Happens, but I swear, Rick, your book is on my wish list. I've been wanting to buy it for a while, but ya know, life happens and stuff gets in my way.

Last, but certainly not least, I must have Treadwell by Dana Joy Wyzard, a.k.a. Little Lotta Joy. I'm so happy to see this woman published that I even made t-shirts for her in my shop. If you'd like to wear the cover of Little Lotta Joy's book, please visit http://www.cafepress.com/janiejunebugstease/9937727. You probably won't want the shirt that says "I Wrote The Book," unless you go around trying to claim that your name is Dana and you wrote HER book, but a couple of the shirts have the book cover without any additional words. (Considering Dana's skill with a gun -- she made the bullet holes in the cover and she didn't do it by shouting BANG -- I must recommend that you not claim to be the author of her book.)

I've also added a couple of Editor's Tip t-shirts to my shop at http://www.cafepress.com/janiejunebugstease/9933165 . They're called "Grammatically Correct Tease." You can wear 

The back of the shirt says "Wayman Publishing." If you'd like a grammatically correct shirt that doesn't say Wayman Publishing, then I can make it for you, but I really don't know why anyone would want a shirt that doesn't say Wayman Publishing.

Well, that's all for now. You know some of the books on my wish list, and they will be mine. Oh, yes. They will be mine.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND: THE SESSIONS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Today I present for your consideration a movie I love, The Sessions (2012, Rated R, recently available on DVD).

Mark O'Brien (John Hawkes), a writer and a poet, had polio when he was six years old. Now he's 38, it's the 1980s, O'Brien spends most of his time trapped in an iron lung so he can breathe, and he wants to lose his virginity.

With the encouragement of an understanding priest played by William H. Macy, O'Brien seeks the aid of a sexual surrogate named Cheryl Cohen-Greene (Helen Hunt), who takes him on a journey through sexuality without pitying him or treating him as if his disability is anything unusual (O'Brien can leave the iron lung for a few hours at a time and breathe with a respirator, but his spine is crooked, making the position of his body somewhat unusual). 

(Father Brendan: [speaking about Mark's decision to find a sex surrogate] I have a feeling that God is going to give you a free pass on this one. Go for it.)

Mark develops feelings for Cheryl and writes a poem to her, which angers her husband (Adam Arkin). Cheryl tries to treat Mark as she would any other client, but eventually, she begins to feel love for him in return.

What's a sex surrogate to do?

The Sessions is based on an article written for a magazine by the real Mark O'Brien in 1990. He passed away in 1999.

Watching it made me wish I had met the man. I know The Sessions is just a movie, but if Mark O'Brien was anything at all like his character in the movie, then he had a wry sense of humor, a delicious curiosity about life, and a great mind. 

This movie is tender and funny and poignant and everything one wants in a movie. The cast is excellent. Helen Hunt was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Academy Award for her role as Cheryl.

I've been a Helen Hunt fan for many years. I never watched the sit-com she was in that was so popular (Mad About You), but I adored her way back when she was on a TV favorite of mine, the medical drama St. Elsewhere. She deserved her nomination, but I think John Hawkes should have received a Best Actor nod as well. His character is a man who longs to experience love in all ways, and Hawkes plays the part so well.

The Sessions has The Janie Junebug Highest Seal of Approval.

This movie has graphic nudity and frank discussions of sexuality, so it's not for children; but it is not pornographic in any way. Dee, I think you will like this one.

I wish you all a beautiful weekend.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Joan: [pushing his gurney] Would you mind if I asked you a favor? 

Mark O'Brien: What, you need help moving furniture?

BOOK NOOK: CELEBRITY sTALKER

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I had a plumbing emergency on Friday that lasted until Tony the Plumber Man arrived on Saturday and made everything better. It turned out to be a minor plumbing problem, but before I knew that, I pictured my little house going up like Old Faithful.

If you know me at all, then you know I am capable of worrying (more than just a bit), expecting the worst (the glass is eternally half empty), and not being able to think about anything other than my worries (I'm so focused).

But during this worry episode, a miracle occurred. A book arrived in the mail Friday afternoon, and it actually distracted me from the plumbing problem. The book is so good and so funny and so sweet and so poignant that I stopped seeing my house as a geyser, and I instead pictured Suzy Soro meeting celebrities, sometimes in chance encounters and sometimes because she was invited to cool parties and dinners because she's a comedian.

The book is called Celebrity sTalker: Stories From a Woman Who Thinks Celebrities Are Dying to Talk to Her. Only They Aren't.

Suzy Soro blogs at Hollywood: Where Hot Comes To Die. I've followed her for quite some time, so I was thrilled when I found out she had written a book. Her blog is great. If you don't follow her, I hereby order you to follow her NOW. Because you are missing out if you aren't a Suzy Soro follower. She will lead you where no other blogger has gone before.

Occasionally, I receive a PERSONAL email from Suzy. She's very nice and always makes me laugh, but I can't help thinking OH MY GOD THIS EMAIL IS FROM SUZY SORO WHO PLAYED THE WOMAN WHO GOT THE LAST CHOCOLATE BABKA ON THAT EPISODE OF SEINFELD.

Okay. I'm over my little fandom thing now, and I can write about the book. Soro tells wonderfully funny stories about running into folks including Angelina Jolie (who was shopping for groceries -- can you believe it?), Brad Pitt, Diana Ross, Oprah, Mick Jagger, Betty White, and the list goes on and on.

What got me hooked, though, is that this book isn't just about meeting celebrities. It's about the ups and downs of Soro's career as an actress and comedian, and how much it means to her to meet these people. It's adorable when she writes about meeting Richard Pryor and having her picture taken with him.

She could count on Phil and Brynn Hartman as friends, and she's loyal to their memories. She refuses to trash Brynn (just in case you've forgotten, Brynn shot and killed Phil and then committed suicide) and explains that people who are in the grip of an addiction don't think clearly. And Brynn was an addict.

But Celebrity sTalker is not a book that will make you feel sad. Here's an example of her great sense of humor and excellent writing as she discusses Malibu:

The supermodels slouching on picnic tables while they have a hearty lunch of an Altoid and a decaf half-caff are interspersed with all the underpaid personal assistants of the rich and famous. Although it's sometimes hard to tell where Rich ends and Poor begins, finding a poor person in Malibu is as rare as finding the Winklevoss twins at Mark Zuckerberg's house. No item in any store in Malibu needs a price tag because it would just prompt the buyer to ask the sales clerk what this "funny little piece of paper" is. If INS ever shows up unexpectedly in Malibu, a lot of pissed-off white people are going to have to learn to load their own dishwashers. 

I'm feeling power mad today, so in addition to telling you to follow Suzy Soro's blog, I hereby order you to buy her book. If you click on the complete title higher up in this post, it will take you to Amazon, where you can get the paperback or buy the e-version for those strange little book reading devices that my kids already told me I won't like and I know they're right because I like to hold a real book in my hands.

And I especially like holding Suzy Soro's book in my hands.

You can also get Celebrity sTalker from Barnes & Noble. It's not expensive, so run along now and make your purchase.

You'll be glad you did.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND: CONTAGION

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Today I present for your consideration a movie directed by Steven Soderbergh (a great favorite of mine). It's called Contagion, and it's available on DVD (2011, rated PG-13).

Beth Emhoff (Gwyneth Paltrow) is returning to her home in the U.S. after a business trip to Hong Kong. She doesn't feel well, and by the time she arrives, she's definitely ill, and not just suffering from jet lag. Beth's husband, Mitch (Matt Damon), also must pick up his stepson from school because young Clark is sick.

Beth suddenly collapses and has a seizure. She's rushed to the hospital, where she dies. Mitch has difficulty comprehending that his wife has actually passed away, and when he returns home, the babysitter frantically tells him that she thinks Clark has just died.

Thus begins an infectious illness that quickly roams the world, seeking victims. Doctors work frantically to try to isolate the virus and develop a vaccine.

As the virus spreads, so does the panic. Adding to the fear is a very popular blogger (Jude Law), who insists that forsythia is the secret to recovering from the virus.

Crowds mob a pharmacy to obtain forsythia, and when they're told the forsythia has run out, they break the glass above the pharmacy counter in a desperate attempt to obtain help. Looting breaks out all over. Many police officers won't work; nurses go on strike because of the lack of protocol for treating the sick; chaos ensues.

I really like this movie. Soderbergh is a master at building tension, interspersed with moments of quiet kindness and bravery. The performances are excellent. It's practically an all-star cast with Kate Winslet, Laurence Fishburne, Elliott Gould, and Marion Cotillard as doctors. The work to isolate the virus and the geometric rate at which it spreads is quite fascinating.

Contagion has The Janie Junebug Seal of Approval.

WARNING: If you are squeamish about illness and medical matters (Maggie), you won't want to watch this movie. You will see characters who foam at the mouth and have seizures. Even I felt a bit freaked out by a quick scene during which the medical examiner cuts off the top of pretty Gwyneth Paltrow's head while performing the autopsy on her character. This movie is definitely not for children.

Now that I've given you a warning, I must say that this movie is worth watching. I also want to tell you something about Steven Soderbergh that I find very interesting. He serves as his own cinematographer and actually edits the movie as he films it. Great, great director.

Dr. Ian Sussman: Blogging is not writing. It's just graffiti with punctuation. 

I wish you all a pleasant weekend.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

ELVIS AARON SCHWARZ & THE GREAT GIRL SCOUT COOKIE CAPER

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've noticed that a few of you have mentioned on your blogs that it's Girl Scout cookie time where you live. Well, a few days ago, Elvis Aaron Schwarz and I walked past the grocery store and saw a nice mom out selling cookies with some cute little Girl Scouts.

And when it's Girl Scout cookie time, I always have a serious Thin Mint jones goin' on.

I can eat an entire box of Thin Mints in less time than it takes to write a silly blog post, and writing silly blog posts does not take very darn long for Reporter Junebug, who used to whip out a newspaper article faster than the speed of sound.

I freeze my Thin Mints. Then I hold the entire box in my left hand, while my right hand grabs one frozen cookie at a time and stuffs said cookie in my mouth, rapidly chewing, followed quickly by a swig of milk. Skim.

Thin Mints are my crack and my smack and my everything, and they are not good for me. I knew I had to break the chain, end the addiction, go cold turkey in spite of the suffering I would endure.

I needed my man to save me from those little bitches Girl Scouts.

Honey Bunny, I begged, you have to help me. I'm a Thin Mint addict. Keep me away from those damn fricking little Girl Scouts. DO NOT LET ME BUY THIN MINTS.

Elvis Aaron Schwarz, my savior, my manly man, put his arm around me and said, Don't you worry, baby doll. I got you.

A grocery store employee was coming toward us with a long line of carts that needed to go back in the store. Elvis started a zig-zag maneuver. He was going to take me past the table and around the carts. We would go where we needed to go and I would be safe from the smack. I mean, uh, cookies.

But at the last second, just when I thought I was safe, just when I was steps away from escaping cookie crack, that bald bastard my honey bunny swung me around and toward the table and he said to those cute little fricking  Girl Scouts, Excuse me, do you have any Thin Mints?

I could. Not. Believe. It.

My honey bunny betrayed me.

Did they have Thin Mints? Why, sure they did.

We'll take two boxes, Elvis told them sweetly.

Then the man actually turned to me and said, You'll have to pay for them. I don't have any cash.

I paid for the crack, put the boxes in my messenger bag, and told him for the rest of the day that I was keeping both boxes.

Don't to that to me, baby doll, he begged.

I paid for 'em. They're mine, I threatened with a leer. You'll have to work for your cookies.

So before he went home, I let him have his box because he deserved a little reward for services rendered.

Now I have a box of Thin Mints in my freezer. I'm proud to say I have eaten only four cookies. I did not devour the entire box. I don't want to look like this when I go out with Elvis Aaron Schwarz:

I want to look exactly the way I did when we bought the cookie crack. In fact, someone snapped a photo of us that day, and I just found it online:

Hi! Remember me?
I'm Elvis Aaron Schwarz.
Isn't my baby doll the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?
I love her more than Thin Mints.

Oh, Elvis Aaron Schwarz. I think I might love you more than Thin Mints, too.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug